


Of nosy relatives, earrings, and last but not least, burning Love

by UnheardMelody



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Shire AU, Smut, Sorry guys I think I got carried away with the fluff, loads of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7136468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnheardMelody/pseuds/UnheardMelody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bilbo knows it’s going to be a long afternoon when he opens his round green door only to find Lobelia Sackville-Baggins standing in front of it."</p><p> </p><p>In which Lobelia is her usual annoying self, Bilbo knows something is bound to go missing from his house once Lobelia leaves, and Thorin is a majestic cupcake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of nosy relatives, earrings, and last but not least, burning Love

Bilbo knows it’s going to be a long afternoon when he opens his round green door only to find Lobelia Sackville-Baggins standing in front of it. Her chin held up high in defiance, her hand ready for a second knock even though Bilbo has opened the door nearly instantly, Lobelia is wearing her usual displeased expression, as if she’s been waiting outside for a while and she doesn’t have all day.

Bilbo sighs mentally.

“Dear cousin” he greets her politely, showing her inside, although his manners seem to go amiss, for Lobelia shoots him a look as if he’d just insulted her.

“What brings you here if I may ask?” Bilbo has learnt a while ago, more precisely when a bunch of dwarves invaded his hobbit hole completely uninvited, that although manners are important, so is inquiring about the reason why an unexpected guest shows up. He thinks his father would probably never forgive his bluntness, but Bilbo believes that if he had lived to see ferocious dwarves raiding his pantry and destroying his plumbing, then maybe he might have understood. Not that it hasn’t eventually turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him, but first he’d had to pay the price, and the damage to his house had only been a small part of it.

However, Lobelia seems more than happy to take offense. “Why, a hobbit cannot even visit her relatives without being accused of having ill intentions!” she exclaims indignantly, walking down the corridor towards the dining room.

Bilbo follows after her, pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s going to be a very long afternoon indeed.

“Of course not, Lobelia, I was just wondering, that’s all, as I have not received any note from you in which you mentioned your intention to visit. But of course you are welcome.” Bilbo wishes Thorin at least was here, but today he’s working down at the forge. Although he does not need to as they have plenty of money to live comfortably without a day’s work, since a few months ago or so Thorin has taken to going to the small forge they have in Hobbiton, from time to time. He will not take any money for his work, and it is needless to say that the hobbits that work there beam every time they see him coming, for they could never hope to equal the skill of a dwarf when it comes to working with metal, and even for dwarves Thorin’s crafts are quite outstanding. And even if Bilbo has frowned the first time Thorin has talked to him about it, he soon got to see how relaxed and satisfied Thorin looks after a day spent smiting at the forge, and he quickly started supporting him and complimenting him about his work. Today, however, having him here would have been a great help with facing Lobelia. Unfortunately, it looks like he’ll have to come out of this one on his own.

Lobelia does not reply, and instead accommodates herself on a chair, looking around her as if inspecting Bag End.

“I was just about to have tea. I will fetch it in a moment, if you will excuse me” and with that Bilbo darts to the kitchen, quickly placing teapot, teacups and a few scones with jam and clotted cream on a trolley, desperately trying to be as fast as possible, hoping that Lobelia will not have the time to smuggle anything in her gown. If he caught her making away with his silver cutlery once, Eru knows she’s capable of anything.

He’s back to the dining room in record time, and nevertheless Lobelia has the nerve to look annoyed again, as if Bilbo has kept her waiting for an age. He tries to ignore her as he carefully places everything on the table, yet he doesn’t miss her slightly shocked expression when he turns his head slightly to reach the jam and his hair brushes away from his ear, revealing the thin golden ring that encircles the helix near the pointy tip. He grins internally, thinking that that look alone was worth the pain of the piercing.

Of course, he understands her indignation. Hobbit customs do not include piercing the skin with any type of jewel; only the occasional necklace or bracelet are a common sight in the Shire, and Bilbo’s earring is highly scandalous by hobbit standards. But for all that he’s always considered himself a respectable hobbit, Bilbo finds he does not care in the least. He got his piercing in Erebor, after the quest, as a sign of acceptance and friendship offered by the dwarves. Piercing the body to decorate it with precious metals and stones is a fairly common custom among dwarves, and Bilbo felt honoured when they expressed the desire to show him their gratitude by embellishing his ear. He has never born anything more proudly in all his life, and for this reason he has endured the shamelessly disappointed looks he’s received since he’s been back to the Shire with no more than a smile and a good amount of pride.

Lobelia’s expression is quick to change, and she manages to assume an inquisitive look that Bilbo finds he does not like in the least, as he knows she is going to pry into his business.

“So tell me cousin, are you still living with that dwarf? Forin, if I remember well?” she smiles, as if she has just asked about this year’s tomatoes rather than his private life.

“His name is Thorin. And yes, he lives with me here, in Bag End” Bilbo holds his ground, determined to make it hard for Lobelia to meddle.

“Oh, my apologies. And where is he now?” Her face shows that she’s not sorry in the slightest; in fact Bilbo suspects that she has said the wrong name on purpose, just to annoy him. After all, a dwarf who has come to live in Hobbiton is no common sight, and by now Bilbo is sure everyone knows Thorin’s name.

“He is working down at the forge today. I reckon he will be back for dinner” Bilbo says, wishing dinner was not so far in time.

“Why, cousin! One would think a dwarf King would not lower himself to work with mere commoners!” _Nor breed with them_ , is the implied subtext.

Bilbo feels his blood boil with rage, thinking about what Lobelia has just said. How _dare_ she judge Thorin’s actions and question his intentions? She knows absolutely nothing about what brought Thorin to move to the Shire, she knows nothing about the bond he shares with Bilbo, and yet she arrogates herself the right to pry into their business and comment about their lives.

Bilbo knows that the next words that will come out of his mouth will not be polite at all, may his father forgive him. He’s on the verge of showing Lobelia his own mind when he hears heavy footsteps approaching from the entrance and realises he must have missed the door opening and closing.

Next thing he knows is an imposing figure is standing behind him, looming over him and Lobelia.

“A King who does not know honest work is no good King” says Thorin’s booming voice, and Bilbo does not need to turn around to know that a disapproving look is set on Thorin’s face.

In contrast, he has a perfect view of the look on Lobelia’s face, which is first of utter shock and then – Eru help him – embarrassment. Bilbo doesn’t know anyone who has managed to plant such look on her face until now, and mentally registers that Thorin’s kingly demeanour is something he will never quite wear off.

“As delighted as I am to make your acquaintance, Madame, I cannot help noticing it is getting rather late, and dinner time is approaching. I am sure I will have the chance to get to know you better in out next meeting, Miss…?” Thorin’s voice trails off.

“Lobelia. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins” Lobelia manages to sputter out, still, it seems, quite shocked. And now even Bilbo has turned around, surprised and – although he would not admit it – quite pleased to see how Thorin is in truth managing to kick Lobelia out of Bag End.

“Ah yes, Missus Lobelia, Bilbo’s dear cousin. I am sure I will have the pleasure to meet you again at a more suitable time” Thorin’s voice remains still rather cold, and in the meantime he has held out a hand for Lobelia to grasp and he is now leading her towards the hall.

Bilbo barely manages to wave her goodbye and good evening before the green door opens and closes, and Lobelia is left on the other side, with a look that – Bilbo has no doubt – shows all her shock and disappointment at being practically thrown out of her cousin’s house by a dwarf, of all people.

But it is not like Bilbo has time to think further into it, or to compliment Thorin – or scold him for his manners, for all that matters – because he finds himself no less than lifted off his feet and transported hastily back to the dining room, only to be deposited on the table and assaulted by the large sweaty bulk of a dwarf.

Before he can even think to protest, Thorin is kissing him hungrily, kissing him like he’s in the desert and the last drop of water lies inside Bilbo’s mouth.

Bilbo cannot exactly profess himself disappointed, and responds enthusiastically to the kiss, tangling his fingers in the silk locks of Thorin’s mane, while the dwarf’s fingers tighten their grip on his hips.

The hobbit hauls himself closer, wrapping his legs against Thorin’s wide body, and Thorin gives a low growl, and leaves his mouth to start tormenting his neck, biting the tender flesh near his throat and then lapping gently the bruised skin.

Without Thori’s lips on his own, Bilbo manages to regain his wits for a brief moment, and tries to take the chance to speak.

“Thorin, you just kicked one of my relatives out of my house” he manages to say, breath ragged.

In the meantime the dwarf has moved to his ear, and is now licking the helix and sucking lightly at the tip, causing the thing golden ring to dangle around in his mouth, and Bilbo finds it even harder to think.

“You did not seem to enjoy her company. In fact, you looked like you were going to throw her out yourself” He pauses his sucking to turn and look at Bilbo straight in the eyes. “I did not mean to offend your kin. I apologise” he says, a serious look on his face.

“No no, you were perfectly right. I was going to politely tell her she is an arrogant nosy hobbit who has not right to question my life or your choices. But it seems you beat me to that” he replies, clenching his legs around Thorin.

“And I must confess: you made quite a show” and he underlines his statement by rolling his hips against Thorin’s, driving a moan out of the dwarf.

“So you were ready to defend my honour, my hobbit?” Thorin asks, resuming his care to Bilbo’s ears.

“Of course I was. She shall never presume to even hint at insulting… you” the last part comes out a bit raggedly, for Thorin’s tongue has taken to play with the earring, and Bilbo is melting against the dwarf’s rocky chest.

“You are a fierce little creature, aren’t you” Thorin practically breathes in his ear, and Bilbo just has to start fumbling with the laces of Thorin’s shirt. He really can’t care less if Thorin is in need of a good bath; he wants his dwarf, and he wants him now.

It seems that today is one of those days when the bedroom is just too far, when the urge to sink in each other is too strong, and the table seems like a place as good as any to let their bodies express their longing. Days like this happen more often than not, and Bilbo welcomes them with joy, his hunger never quite sated and his need stronger than ever.

Soon, but not soon enough, Thorin’s shirt is open, and Bilbo is more than happy to run his greedy fingers over the thick hair covering the dwarf’s chest, and to feel his flickering muscles under his fingertips.

Thorin moans under his ministrations, his grip shifting to Bilbo’s backside, and the hobbit tries to stifle a small yelp as Thorin squeezes cheekily, returning to devouring Bilbo’s mouth with his flaming kisses.

Bilbo’s hands trail down Thorin’s stomach and belly, until he reaches the bulk of his trousers and only lets his fingertips brush against it, teasingly. Thorin groans in the kiss, and Bilbo stifles as small laugh, and soon he’s working at the laces and dipping his hand inside Thorin’s breeches, only to feel Thorin’s cock swell under his finger.

In the meantime Thorin has manages to open his shirt, and Bilbo distractedly hopes he hasn’t ripped all the buttons off, as it wouldn’t be the first time he does such thing. The dwarf is now rubbing his nipples, twisting them, and it makes Bilbo wriggle a little in his arms. As soon as the hobbit’s hands touch the naked flesh of Thorin’s cock, his head falls to Bilbo’s shoulder, biting down to it and panting fiercely against it.

“I cannot avoid saying that at the moment I would gladly bury myself inside you, _ghivashel_ ” Thorin manages to get out, and it is half a moan, his swelling cock showing all his interest. And Bilbo cannot hide his contentment at the use of the Khuzdul word, which Thorin always pronounces with a hint of adoration in his voice and, now, of thick lust. And he is also not going to hide that he longs for the feeling of Thorin’s cock inside his body, for the sensation of utter completeness that he can feel only when his dwarf is buried deep within him.

“Then do, my King. I want all of you, I want everything you have to offer, and I want it now” and with these words he grabs the little plate that holds the butter and shoves it in Thorin’s hand.

And Thorin, realising he’s just been granted permission to fuck his hobbit on the dining room’s table, doesn’t waste any time and expertly gets rid of Bilbo’s breeches, coating his fingers in soft butter that melts against his skin.

First he takes time to stroke Bilbo’s already hard cock, his thumb sliding over the flushed tip driving moans from the hobbit. Soon Bilbo is panting hard, and he very nearly begs Thorin to fuck him without even preparing him. But Thorin knows better, and he slides his first finger inside the hobbit with a certain ease, as they both know Bilbo’s arse is quite used to this kind of activity. Soon another thick finger follows, and now Bilbo truly is begging, even if he knows Thorin is always unmovable on this; he refuses to take the chance to hurt his beloved, not matter how little control he might be having on his own instincts at the moment. And Bilbo is always so moved by the care Thorin has towards him, and stares at him in his eyes, trying to tell him without words how lucky he feels that Thorin ever entered his life.

After a third finger has stretched him well, Thorin finally gives in to Bilbo’s pleas and carefully coats himself with the butter, before pushing the head of his cock to the flushed entrance. Bilbo feels the pressure, and if for a moment, as Thorin breaches him, he feels a little sting of pain, his face doesn’t show it. Thorin continues to slide into him, until he’s buried balls deep, and he lets out a low groan. By the time he starts moving tentatively, Bilbo’s breath is fast, heart pounding and hips trying to wriggle free of Thorin’s grasp in order to buck up against his cock.

Gradually Thorin’s thrusts grow more powerful, his hips working frantically against Bilbo’s body. The hobbit’s face is buried in his shoulder, his arms clasped around the dwarf’s chest like holding onto a lifeline. And that’s right, Bilbo thinks, for Thorin is his lifeline, and he can’t help thinking that although the dwarf encircles him with his larger and stouter body, Thorin is held deep within him, held safe, and protected.

“Faster, Thorin, please, _please_ , have me, take me, give me everything” he muffles into Thorin’s shoulder, and he can feel Thorin’s heart beating madly in his chest as the dwarf complies and starts thrusting further, thrusting _home_ , and repeatedly hits the exact right spot within Bilbo’s body that takes the breath out of him.

After that, it doesn’t take long for Bilbo to come, untouched, between their intertwined bodies. Pleasure gathers at the base of his spine before shaking him from head to toe, and he can _feel_ , he can feel now what it means to be cherished, to be cared for, to be _loved_.

Soon the clench of Bilbo’s body around Thorin’s cock is too much to handle, and the dwarf spills his seed deep within the hobbit, while he cups Bilbo’s face in his hands and pushes a last desperate kiss on those swollen lips.

When the last drop of seed leaves them, their limbs go limp and they just hold each other in their arms, chests rising and falling quickly and hearts beating loudly against each other.

The fastest to regain his wits seems to be Thorin, who gently pulls up Bilbo from the table, cradling him in his arms like he weighs no more than a baby. He places a gentle kiss among the hobbit’s hair, and makes for the bathroom.

“It seems we are both in need of a good bath” he whispers in Bilbo’s ear, and Bilbo laughs softly against Thorin’s shoulder. If Thorin needed a bath beforehand, now Bilbo definitely needs one too; he’s all sticky and damp, covered in bruises that will not take long to turn purple.

Thorin carefully deposits him on the low chair near the bathtub and starts filling it with water and Bilbo’s favourite bath soap; like any good hobbit, he likes to scrape himself clean, and for this purpose he especially likes lavender and honey soap. Thorin knows this well, and when the tub is ready he climbs into it, gently pulling the hobbit with him. He takes time clean every inch of Bilbo’s body thoroughly, and Bilbo is more than happy to let him, for once just basking in the simple care of his loved one. It is always surprising to him how gentle Thorin can be; he knows well that his grasp could crush the most fragile bones in Bilbo’s body if only he wanted to, and yet his is nothing more than a feathery touch tracing the soft and bare skin. His fingers indulge on the pattern of bruises on Bilbo’s neck and shoulders, and Bilbo can see the light frown on Thorin’s face and knows its meaning before the dwarf even opens his mouth.

“I wasn’t delicate on you, _ghivashel_ ” he says, avoiding meeting Bilbo’s eyes.

Bilbo cups his face lightly, trying to get Thorin to look at him.

“Don’t be silly, my love. I am in fact quite sturdy. And I have to admit it pleases me to see your marks on my skin” Bilbo says, and it matters little if no one will ever see the marks that fly past his collarbone, for he will not show his shoulders; he still welcomes every single bruise knowing that they mean something much deeper than mere scraps. They symbolise the intensity of the flaming passion that Thorin feels for him, like a fire burning fiercely in a hearth, and Bilbo fears the day when Thorin won’t leave any mark on him, for it will mean Thorin no longer desires him as he does know.

Thorin seems convinced, or maybe he lets himself be convinced, for the sake of his _treasure of all treasures_ , and the sanity of his mind. Only Mahal knows how he fears hurting his hobbit, and that he will never forgive himself for threatening to kill him when the gold sickness was upon him. He will never forget the throbbing of the blood in Bilbo’s veins as he held him on the ramparts, the look of hurt in his eyes, hurt, even more than fear, and he would be a liar if he said something had not snapped inside him in that precise instant. He knows that was the exact moment when the sickness had started losing the pull on his mind, and he faintly remembers the utter horror he felt.

Thorin lowers his gaze, leaning into Bilbo’s hands allowing himself to be comforted by this brave little creature, and Bilbo seems to understand what direction his thoughts have started following, for he places a light kiss on Thorin’s forehead: “I trust you with my life, Thorin, more, I trust you with my _soul_ , and I will never allow you to think you’re not worth it”

And Thorin is even more amazed at his burglar, at the way he reads him so easily, because that’s exactly how he feels, he knows he’s not worthy of the second chance Bilbo has chosen to give him. For a long time he’s felt like a red shiny apple that’s rotting at heart, like a hollow shell that holds no promise of precious core. But thanks to Bilbo he has started to realise there is still something inside him, if the burning love he feels for this creature is any proof. And it just makes the love he has for his family, and for his people, shine all the brighter, like Bilbo’s love was the spark that managed to set cooling coals ablaze once more. Thorin may be a dwarf, but he has no stone heart. He has never known better than now that he is flesh and blood, and a beating heart. And that he is healing, deep within, even when he did not have the notion he needed any healing to begin with.

He cannot even begin to explain all of this to his hobbit, but he hopes that at least a small part of it will be visible in his eyes, burning bright for the rest of his life.

“I will never be grateful enough, my hobbit, for having you in my life. You saved me, Bilbo Baggins, in so many ways that I cannot even start to count” and Bilbo is pulling him in his arms gently, cradling Thorin’s head against his chest, his finger lightly combing any knots away from the silky mane of his hair. Thorin sighs with contentment, and lets himself be held.

Eru knows how long they stay like that, two bodies merging into one. The water slowly cools around them, and Bilbo lifts the soap to gently but efficiently scrub Thorin clean, before they both start shivering. They come out of the copper tub, wrapping themselves in big fluffy towels, and Bilbo laughs warmly when Thorin shakes his head like a wet dog, sending drops of water everywhere. Soon they are smiling at each other, and the fond look in their eyes would make anyone avert their gaze with embarrassment. Their idyllic moment is soon interrupted by the low growl of a hungry dwarven stomach, and Bilbo gifts Thorin with another ringing laugh before dressing himself in clean clothes and making for the kitchen, were he sets to preparing a quick but nutritious dinner. Thorin is soon next to him, gathering plates and cutlery that he neatly disposes on the table.

Bilbo does not know if he will ever get used to a dwarven King setting the table in Bag End, of all places, but he cannot say he dislikes the sight. It has such a domestic feeling to it that it is nearly hard to think that when they met, they were about to set out on a desperate quest to slay a dragon and reclaim a lost kingdom. Thorin still holds majesty in each of his traits; he looks every inch a King, and Bilbo suspects it is in his blood, and it will never change. On the other hand, Bilbo still looks like the grocer Thorin accused him of being when they first met; he was never a burglar, nor a warrior, but inside he’s changed so much that sometimes he doesn’t even recognise himself. Now he knows Gandalf was right when he claimed there was more to Bilbo than even he, himself thought.

Suddenly Bilbo senses Thorin’s imposing presence at his side, and a moment later thick but delicate fingers clasp his hand, gently lifting the wooden spoon he is holding from his fingers, and replacing it with something much smaller. Bilbo turns around and opens his hand to find a little metal object, the material warmed up by the heat of his body.

In his hand rests a golden earring, quite different from the one he is wearing now; this one is a long curved cuff, designed to encircle a good part of the helix. Bilbo looks closer, and he can see delicate engravings on it: at the bottom, the symbol of the house of Durin, and above it the surprisingly detailed sketch of a fire-breathing dragon. At the feet of the dragon, just above Durin’s crown, a blue gem is encrusted in the gold, most likely a sapphire, Bilbo register with disbelief.

He’s still staring at the cuff with awe when Thorin speaks.

“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice a tad insecure, and Bilbo realises Thorin has been watching him attentively, waiting for a reaction, as if he isn’t sure whether Bilbo will like the earring.

Oh, how silly of him to think such a thing.

He decides to show his appreciation rather than speak it, and throws his arms around Thorin’s neck, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. He kisses him with hunger, kisses him like his breath can only be drawn from Thorin’s body. And Thorin responds enthusiastically, a smile breaking into the kiss, the tension in his shoulders melting under Bilbo’s touch.

“Of course I like it. It is the most beautiful piece of jewellery I’ve ever seen. It must have taken ages to make. It is really too much for a silly hobbit’s ear” Bilbo says when they break apart to breathe, smiling knowingly, his hand still clasping the earring tightly.

“Nonsense, it is only but a poor reflection of your beauty” and Bilbo giggles, because what Thorin is saying is really an exaggeration, especially when the words come from a dwarf whose eyes shine more than any gem in the world. And now that he thinks about it, the sapphire encrusted in the earring reminds him of the intense dark blue of Thorin’s eyes when they are thick with lust, and he can’t help but melt at the thought.

“It did take quite a while to make, but I wanted it to be perfect for you, _ghivashel_ ” Thorin rumbles in a low tone. “Will you try it on for me?”

“Of course” Bilbo replies immediately, and holds out the earring for Thorin to grab and place it at his ear, replacing his plain golden ring. He distantly notices that only a thin ring of the gold pierces through his skin, while the rest of the cuff only encircles it gently. Thorin fastens it with expert hands, and does not miss the chance to lightly stroke the tip of Bilbo’s ear, causing him to shiver.

“Just the right size” Thorin murmurs in amazement, like Bilbo’s ear is one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen, and Bilbo can’t help but pull him down and kiss him again, and again, and if it were for him, he would never stop.

“Thank you, my love, I shall wear it proudly until the end of my days. I promise that I will treasure this jewel, that I will treasure _you,_ my everything, until breath leaves my body” Bilbo says, and the love that’s pouring from his eyes is like liquid gold, it is warm, and shiny, and it finds its way right to Thorin’s heart, filling to the brim, making him feel as he’s never felt before, so complete and so utterly _loved_ that all he can do is thank the Valar for his second chance at life.

“And I swear, on my honour, that I will protect you, my only treasure, from any unlucky being that tries to lay an ill hand on you. I will slay any enemy, destroy every threat, and offer you the head of anyone who tries to bring you harm” and the description may be a bit gruesome, but Bilbo doesn’t mind, because Thorin makes him feel safe, he makes him feel _home_ , wherever he might be.

It is dark outside of the warm hobbit hole where a dwarf and a hobbit kiss each other passionately, dinner stubbornly ignored. And more than one folk may not understand this, might not understand what pure and strong bond holds them together, but it is rather unimportant, because only few creatures have the privilege to see beyond race and culture and see _love_ , true and unique. And those who can would only recognise this love as a beacon of hope, hope that there is still something worth fighting for, that all the creatures of Middle Earth will one day understand that they were born from an act of love, and love is what they should live for.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, so I am not too sure if this makes any sense at all. I have to say it is the first time I write smut in detail, and the very first time I write smut in English. So feel free to point out if anything is too weird.  
> I think I got a bit carried away with the fluff, originally I was planning to just write some smut; it was gonna be a bit of practice for my long, let's put it that way. But then it was so hard to keep out all the love so I just went like "screw it" and wrote it anyway.  
> This is an AU and you can imagine whatever background you want for it - the only certain thing is everybody survived and Thorin now lives with Bilbo in the Shire.  
> Okay I'm done bubbling now.  
> Thanks everyone for reading, feedback is always very welcome.  
> UnheardMelody


End file.
